


The Aftermath In Our Favor

by Lostfadingthoughts



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Jack Kline, Comfort, Depression, M/M, PTSD, Slow Burn, Top Dean Winchester, mature for later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-04
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:46:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22108072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lostfadingthoughts/pseuds/Lostfadingthoughts
Summary: (End of Season 14 Spoilers) Tangent from the graveyard. God leaves but there's no end times, no gun shot wound. Jack and Mary are still gone and Dean is having a hard time coping with it. Slow burn Jack Kline x Dean Winchester.
Relationships: Dean Winchester x Jack Kline - Relationship, Dean Winchester/Jack Kline, Dean x Jack, Jack Kline & Dean Winchester, Jack Kline/Dean Winchester, Jack x Dean
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	The Aftermath In Our Favor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anything canon to the show and the characters themselves, belong to the writers of Supernatural. Any towns or cities mentioned are purely for travel, any places within those towns/cities will be fictional. Enjoy chapter 1 and be sure to leave a comment and a kudos before you go!

Lucifer was right.

No, not Lucifer. Nick. Nick had been right.

Nick had been right in telling Dean how it felt to be filled with an archangel.

Dean knew all too well what it was like to be tethered to a rocket shooting through time and space. He knew that there had been hatred for Michael, but deep down he knew there had been a little bit of love.

Only in the absence of the ethereal being did Dean feel a small hole begin to grow within him. The small hole of loss.

He wasn’t sure if he grieved the loss of Michael himself or rather the feeling of being completely whole, one with the universe. It was an intense ache he felt, one he felt etched in his bones, in every breath he took.

At first he felt he could manage, try to move on from it all.

But then Mary had died and while the anger and the hole inside grew, Dean still felt as if he could get through the pain, or at least muddle through life.

But then Jack had died and God had run away all that was left was the loss and the grief and the ever growing hole deep down inside.

Dean hadn’t left the bunker in days. Hell, he hadn’t even left his room. He had no appetite, no desire to take a shower, or the will to even turn on his television to at least fill the silence.

All he felt like doing was laying in bed and sleep. If he’d woken up at all it was merely to turn over as each side grew sore after a while.

If he spoke at all it was to tell Sam or Cas to leave him alone, that all he wanted to do was sleep.

He didn’t want to hunt. He didn’t want to read any books. He didn’t even want to answer his phone.

All he really wanted to do was feel whole again but since he couldn’t seem to find a way out of his current funk, all he did was sleep. 

In his dreams he could visit his old, favourite memories as if watching a movie. He could be having a good time with Sam, drinking in a bar and laughing about something that wasn’t even that funny. He could simply be sitting in a quiet room with Castiel, thumbing through stacks of books before heading off bed. He tried to dream of his mother but his mind simply wouldn’t let him. He could dream of Jack though, of all the good times, of all the struggles and mini wins. He could dream about a life he had lived such a long time ago, but eventually he would wake up and they’d all be gone again. 

Time was slipping through his fingers, rushing by with no thought of him and his loss.

Time and Sam and Cas moved on around him. Knocks on his door seemed to stop and his phone no longer rang.

The shadows from the corners of his room seemed to grow, engulfing him in the silence and dark, consuming him, drowning him.

Until it stopped.

Dean woke up and he was hungry. He felt strong enough to take a shower and agile enough to make it to the kitchen and make himself a sandwich.

He could do these small things, one at a time. He could finish his sandwich and clean the plate in the sink.

He could do that.

He could make it from the kitchen out into the library. He could, but for now he felt comfortable in the kitchen, sitting at the wooden table. He could sit and zone out and think about things a mind does when it wanders. 

Dean could sit and think about things he probably shouldn’t think about, things that made his eyes itchy and his nose tickle. He could’ve been lost in his head for hours if Castiel hadn’t walked into the room only moments later. He was unaware at first, that anyone else was in the room, only realizing that Cas was there when he felt a familiar hand on his shoulder.

For a moment, it was as if Dean were deaf. He could see Castiel’s lips move and form the words ‘dean are you okay’ but he couldn’t hear anything until the angel repeated himself.

“Dean? Are you okay?”

Shifting in his seat, Dean rotated his shoulders until Cas realized he had better remove his hand.

“Hey Cas. Yeah, I’m okay.” His voice sounded rough and unused from countless hours of sleep. “Are you okay?” He returned in kind, if only to be polite.

The air between them lay stale and strange. Castiel wasn’t sure how to answer Dean, wasn’t sure if the other was telling the truth or not.

Castiel sighed. “I uhm-” he fished around for an answer, for one he couldn’t give, and gave up. “No, I don’t think I am.”

Dean nodded to the bench across from him and the table and waited patiently for Castiel to sit down.

“Dean, you’ve been in your room for days. Sam and I -”

“It’s okay Cas.” Dean said. Normally he would smile to let the other know all was well, but he didn’t feel quite like smiling now. “I just needed time to clear my head.” 

Shifting awkwardly, Castel’s brows furrowed in suspicion. “And now you’re just ...fine?” He was curious and confused and worried all wrapped up in one package.

Dean paused a moment, maybe a moment too long, as Cas began to notice just how odd Dean was acting. He cleared his throat, his jaw hardening as he clenched his teeth. “We can’t change what happened. So now, I’m fine.” 

“How can you be?” Castiel’s voice seemed to rise a little, the angel a bit agitated with the calm demeanor Dean was exhibiting. “What happened to Jack and Mar-”

Slamming his fists down onto the table, Dean had spooked Castiel into silence. 

It hung in the air between them again, oddly stagnant and ironically loud. 

“I said I’m fine, Cas. I’m as fine as I’ll ever be.”

Perplexed, Castiel cleared his throat and straightened his shoulders. It didn’t mean much but to boost his confidence, something he had been lacking of late. “What exactly does that mean?”

Dean sighed as he looked from Cas to the table and down to his hands that he’d placed back in his lap. “It means I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But-”

“Cas? Oh hey - Dean?” Sam, who seemed to have a knack of when to enter a room and interrupt tense situations in need of interrupting, caught himself in the threshold. 

Dean looked up at his brother, noticing a piece of paper clutched in his hand. “Hey. What’cha got?”

It took Sam a moment, only one, to look between Castiel and Dean and decide if he should share the information he was currently holding. He could spend time asking Dean all the questions he had but he knew better and would wait for a better time.

“Oh- uhm a case.”

Dean’s brows rose, his attention fully grabbed. “Where at?”

“Dean-” Cas started again.

Sam could see Dean’s jaw set and quickly came to sit at the table.

“Lincoln.” When no one said a word, Sam cleared his throat and continued. “Possible vampire attack. I was just about to grab Cas and head out.”

“I’ll go.”

“Dean.” Spoken in unison, Sam and Cas looked at each other before looking back at Dean.

“Guys, stop. I need to get out and do something.”

Clearing his throat again, Sam shifted a little in his seat. “I understand but maybe you should take a little more time.”

“To do what?” Dean asked, moving to stand. “Wallow in self pity? I already did that. I need to stretch my legs, Sammy.”

They knew there was no arguing with Dean once he had made up his mind. Cas very recently experienced Dean’s hell or highwater stance and what it meant to defy it. They couldn’t really stop him, but they didn’t have to like it either. 

Dean could see it on their faces, the looks of concern and frustration. “Okay, look.” He said to Sam. “I’ll follow your lead, I’ll even let you drive.” He grinned.

Sam rolled his eyes but relented, sighing. “Fine.”

For a moment, Dean remembered what excitement felt like. He even smiled as he clapped his hands together and hurried out of the room to grab his gear. The feeling had diminished just as quickly as it had come however. 

He had to pass by Jack’s room on his way to his own. Stopping shortly before the door and knowing that there was no one on the other side, Dean could feel the absence of Jack’s presence, the nagging void that made it seemingly impossible to ignore.

Only when Sam left the kitchen and startled him did Dean suck it up and continue on down the hall.

This job would be a hard one, Dean knew that. Normally he would be up front and ready to lead the good fight but he didn’t feel that familiar fire that usually fueled him up inside anymore.

He felt drained of all energy and suddenly very tired, but he would shake it off and go through with the hunt. He had to see if he could do it, if he was capable of continuing this way of life.

How many times had he been tested?

How many times had he thought about hanging it all up? He’d come to terms with his life, accepted it when everyone else was struggling.There were times Dean would steal away at night in his room though.

Sometimes he thought what Sam and him would do with their time if they legitimately left it all behind.

More recently he had started wondering if his mother would join them, wondered if he could spare Jack from the heart ache this tough live was and actually give him a chance to thrive.

Even though he still had Sam, Dean didn’t imagine things like this anymore. He didn’t really think of much, just of what he had lost and how much he would sacrifice to have it all back.

As if on autopilot, Dean packed up for the hunt and met with Sam and Cas in the control room.

They continued to look at him as if he’d break apart at any moment but Dean shrugged it off and headed up and out of the bunker, ready to distract himself from his ever constant grief.

* * *

The job seemed simple enough. People had gone missing and found days later barren of any blood. While the police seemed to think it was a psycho cutting up the bodies to drain their blood for a ‘satanic ritual’ and not really taking the latter to heart, Sam and Dean knew better. For all they knew, it could actually be someone cutting the bodies up for a satanic ritual but they were there on the assumption and rumors of vampire attacks.

Sam was busy chatting with the local pd while Dean was busy eyeing a group of teenage onlookers. They seemed way too curious and fascinated by the dead body lying under a tarp only a few feet from them and the police tape. 

Dean’s phone rang, Castiel on the other line. “Hey.” Dean answered, turning his back on the teenagers.

“Dean, we were right. All victims have been drained. There’s a bunch of cuts on the bodies but each one has a bite mark at least somewhere on the body.”

Grunting in frustration, Dean nodded towards Sam to try and get his attention. “Great, now all we need is to find the bloodsuckers. Anything else on your end?”

“Only that each victim had been found early in the morning. Time of death seems to always be around five am, shortly before they’re dumped.”

Sam had walked over, thanking the sheriff for his time. He was ready to hear what Dean had to say, ready to divulge his own information.

“Great. Thanks.” Dean abruptly hung up the phone, tucking it back in his pocket. He noticed Sam giving him an odd look. “What?” He asked his brother.

Sam hesitated but eventually spoke. “Nothing. Look, the sheriff says the only evidence they’ve managed to scrounge up at one of the crime scenes was what looked to be school supplies; pencils, pens, a pair of scissors. Like they had fallen out of someone’s backpack.”

“Could they have belonged to the victims? They all look pretty young, highschool I’d say.”

“I thought so but there was no blood found on the supplies.” 

Dean had a sudden thought and turned to look back at the intrigued teenagers, but they were nowhere to be found. “Did all the victims go to the same school?” Dean asked, breaking his gaze away to look back at Sam.

“No, there’s three schools in this district that each few went to.”

“Alright,” Dean sighed. “Call Cas and send him to one. You and I will tackle the other two. See what we can come up with.”

Sam stared at Dean for a moment, giving another signature look.

“What?” Dean repeated.

Smiling lightly, Sam chuckled. “Thought you were following my lead.”

For a moment, Dean had forgotten that he’d said that, let alone felt that prior to leaving the bunker. It was as if stepping over the threshold had reset him, gave him that breath of fresh air he needed. Being out in his element just felt right all of a sudden. Getting the bad guy, winning the day sent him to the front.

Dean smiled back at his brother, a bit embarrassed and surprised of himself. “Yeah well - what’s your plan then?” He asked, trying to cover it. 

Shuffling his feet, Sam brushed a bit of his hair back over his ear. “Uhm - no, what you said works.” He had to admit, it was nice to see his brother take the reigns. It was progress from the last few days and he wasn’t going to question it. 

“Right.” Dean was a bit amused. He passed Sam, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Call me when you got something.”

* * *

Cas and Sam seemed to have struck out at their schools. While students and teachers were grieving over the loss of classmates and pupils, no one knew anything as to why the dead had been targeted so violently, or even at all.

Sam sighed, meeting up with Cas. He climbed into the car, frustrated with the lack of findings. 

“Maybe Dean will have better luck.” Castiel suggested, driving away from the school Sam had come from. 

“How could no one know nothing? I mean there’s seven dead kids!” Sam sighed, settling further into the seat.

“Maybe we aren’t looking in the right place. Maybe it’s not anyone in the schools.”

“It has to be though. They found school supplies at the crime scene and all the bodies had been found before the schools would start.” Sighing again, Sam waited impatiently as Cas continued to drive in the direction of Dean.

“Let’s just see what Dean got and go from there.” Castiel too seemed on edge and frustrated. Sam could have chalked it up to just the case but Cas had been feeling this way for a while now. He suddenly remembered Dean hanging up so quickly earlier.

“What’s going on between you and Dean?” They had a few minutes until they reached their destination, he might as well fill up the time with talking. 

Hesitating and unsure of what to say, Cas tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “As you know, Dean and I didn’t exactly see eye to eye with Ja-Jack.” It was hard to talk about Jack and about what had happened. It had been merely a week since and though Sam and had reached out and brought Cas home, Dean had been busy in his room deflating. They hadn’t had a chance to fix things, if things could even be fixed at all. 

Sam nodded, understanding all too well. He’d been angry with Castiel as well, watching the angel leave them, not choosing them or their side, but as the anger melted away, Sam knew that Castiel was doing what he thought was right. That’s all he had ever done. He couldn’t be blamed for the actions of God, nor of the actions of Jack in his soulless state. 

“I know he’s angry with you Cas, but -”

“He said I was dead to him if I left, and I left.” 

They had pulled up to the school by now but neither made a move to leave the car just yet. “Dean’s hurting Cas. He’s angry with you and sure what he said was pretty harsh but you know that he eventually comes around in the end. It takes him a while to see the bigger picture. Give him time.” 

Those last words seem to resonate inside of Sam, a ghosted memory of a time when he had said those exact words to Jack. It had been about Dean at that time too but Sam was always ready to repeat himself when it came to expressing how much of a hard head his brother had sometimes. 

Castiel nodded, agreeing but still stubborn enough to be frustrated and concerned. They exited the car and took off into the last school.

* * *

Dean had woken up in strange places many times in his life. Sometimes it was in places he liked waking up in, most of the time it was dark, dank, gritty places he did not enjoy waking up in. This was the latter; a small, dark room with no windows and only one door which Dean sat across from. 

He was tied to a cold metal chair that was bolted to the ground, a small bowl sitting on the floor beside it the only other thing in the room. 

His head ached something awful and he could feel a bit of fresh blood oozing from the wound and down over his head and the already caked on blood that had already dried. Dean had been in situations like this before and while usually someone came to save the day, he wondered if this was going to be it. He wondered if he’d die in this small room, some meal to a hungry vamp.

He wondered where they would dump his body, if they would even dump it somewhere at all. 

His mind wandered back to the events that happened earlier at the school. He had managed to locate the surely group of teenagers he’d seen at the crime scene but they all checked out to be nothing but angst and drama, wannabe fantasy types that gave the illusion that they were into some dark stuff but purely only in it for the look of trouble.

No. No Dean hadn’t expected it to be a teacher, a sub at that. He’d just found out that she had been a sub for each of the three schools and had traveled to each one during the time frame of all of the murders. He was ready to call Sam and tell him to set up and be ready to tail the teacher to a less populated area. 

He hadn’t wanted to kill her on school grounds for risk of being caught, but before he could pull his phone out of his pocket as he walked out into the men’s bathroom, he’d been hit in the side of the head, attacked from out of seemingly nowhere.

Everything had gone black and Dean slept.

The door to the small room opened and his attacker walked through. She smiled and walked close to Dean, a folded up bit of cloth in one hand. She unwound it to reveal a very sharp knife. 

“You do realize you’re making a big mistake.” Dean grunted, trying his best to wriggle free of the bindings on his wrists. They had no give and were practically digging into his flesh and cutting off circulation to his hands. 

The woman chuckled, kneeling down to bring the bowl to sit right underneath one of Dean’s arms. “I’m aware that no one knows where we are.”

Watching her move the bowl, Dean’s heart began to race. “I don’t think you understand. My brother will find me, find you and once he does he’s not going to just let you go. He’s a smart guy.”

“Well then,” The woman smirked. “I guess I’ll just have to kill you quickly, won’t I? Don’t worry, we have time to savor this moment at least. Enjoy.”

Dean began to struggle again but there was absolutely no way he was getting out of those bindings. His legs were strapped just as hard, cutting off just as much blood flow to his feet as to his hands. It clicked suddenly, the many cut marks, the tough bindings. She bled the victims dry by basically pushing the blood out of the body. If it couldn’t circulate properly, it would flow quicker from the cuts. But something else wasn’t quite right.

“Why do you bite them? If you’re cutting them to drain them, why are you biting them too? Wouldn’t that be better in the long run, to keep someone alive long enough to feed over a longer period of time?” Dean couldn’t remember a time when he spoke so much, but he was trying to his very darndest to stall for as long as he could.

“It shouldn’t matter to you, food. You’ll be dead soon enough anyway and then none of this will matter.” She took a firm hold of the knife and slid a nice, small, clean line down one of Dean’s arms. She smiled as Dean grunted out in pain, his blood gushing quickly down into the bowl. “You should calm down or this will be over before you know it.” She laughed, wiping the knife on the cloth and wrapping it back up.

Calming would normally be the last on Dean’s mind but he knew that if he kept panicking, kept struggling, he’d end up dead a whole lot faster. “When my brother gets here, and saves me, I’ll use that knife on you.” He grunted out through clenched teeth.

The woman laughed and left the room, the heavy door closing with a loud bang. 

“Damnit.”


End file.
